


downpours

by shepherd



Series: ffxii week prompts [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: Family, Gen, Post-Canon, Sister-Sister Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:40:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24004486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shepherd/pseuds/shepherd
Summary: On her first day of freedom, Mjrn is caught in a rainstorm.
Relationships: Fran & Mjrn
Series: ffxii week prompts [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1731145
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	downpours

A half dozen scents overwhelmed Mjrn’s nose, each more fascinating than the last. Some were familiar – the sharp tang of steel and fresh rainwater, like a torrential storm upon the huts of the wood-warders – and others were cloying and foreign, the sour river and the saturated soil that nearly gave way beneath her feet, squishing in a way that made Mjrn’s nose wrinkle.

The storm that fell upon her was merely a fledgling for now, but it soaked her through nonetheless. They had precious little time to smell the creeping change upon the wind and Fran’s expression had grown weary as Mjrn sensed it first, snatching in warning at her sister’s hand. Those thick storm clouds had gathered far quicker than they expected, a morose grey shifting into pitch black, and they had scarcely made it halfway to the hume city of Rabanastre when the rain had begun to pour.

Fran had become a sight. It soaked her hair against her uncovered skull. Damp tresses stuck to her shoulders and beads of rainwater ran along her nose, falling across her creased brows. Mjrn’s own skirts were dripping water, a disgusting feeling against her bare skin to match Fran’s dour expression, but nothing plagued the lightness of Mjrn’s heart.

Even as her heels wobbled and wavered amongst the filth Mjrn took in the ceaseless sky and the great shadowy rocks with wide eyes. Never before had she seen the likes. The trees of her Wood towered, dappled in what she had thought were infinite greens, and there the seasons had meant little. Rain came when She deemed it necessary – but Mjrn no longer stumbled like a child beneath Her Roots. Now she knew there were far more colours. Beyond Her the rains were short tempered, quick to punishment, and Mjrn delighted in the sharp chill they brought.

“Mjrn,” her sister called, as sharply as their Jote could call, a bite of summoning. Immediately her eyes tore away, and she found Fran watching, long paces ahead with her hand on her hip. As always her bow rest in her hand, her quiver slung over her back. Not even while they rested by the mouth of of the jungle did she spare a moment to relax. “Come. You must remain at my side always.”

She had been staring for much too long. There was something enthralling about a brand-new sky, and Mjrn could not bear to look away more than heartbeats. But always faithful she obeyed, eager to walk step in step for the very first time. Too long had she wandered behind.

To walk sure-footed was a distant dream. To earn Fran’s pride was greater yet, lost behind the flickering unknown of the horizon, but in time it would be hers.

“Sister,” Mjrn burst, and Fran’s eyebrows arched. “What are those stones?”

They were large and imposing, as dark as the flint of Fran’s arrows. Many dotted the horizons, tall against the dense sky. Thick as oak, sullen and stark, they piqued Mjrn’s ceaseless curiosity.

Casting her eyes toward the horizon, little changed upon Fran’s face. A tiny hint of a smile ghosted over stern lips. “Shadestones,” she stated, and sighed when Mjrn looked expectant. “The peoples of these plains use these when the stones glimmer. They absorb the sun itself, during the Dry seasons.”

“Oh,” Mjrn said, the wonder overflowing from her core. The thought of all the world constricted her chest and her body fluttered, an indescribable feeling she could not name heating her blood. “Oh, that’s wonderful. Could we-”

“They depart shortly before the Rains come,” Fran interrupted, not unkindly. “They will not return until the Dry preludes them.”

Enthusiasm fled as quickly as it had come. Her shoulders slumped. “I see.”

Fran’s thumb rubbed against the arch of her bow. It was rain slick, her sleek armour dotted and her veil hanging heavy. “We may visit,” she clarified. “It will be a long while yet.”

“It isn’t necessary,” Mjrn said, newly regretful. “I merely thought-”

“I will show you,” Fran announced, a tone that Mjrn had sorely missed. It was a pointed as the thunder that distant reached their ears, as firm as their bond. “But first I will show you Rabanastre, and all her secrets. Then we will speak of the Giza folk, yes?”

Mjrn perked up. “How far do we have to walk?”

“Not much further,” She said, gesturing across the mouth of the river. Without warning she began to walk, long strides sweeping, leaving Mjrn in her shadow with no intention. Hurriedly she made to catch up, eager to see it all, hear every word. “I am keen to escape the rain. I am sure you agree.”

“I don’t mind,” she replied. In all honesty it hardly bothered her. The stench was nothing compared to the nausea of a malboro on the wind and the cold would pass by. Rain was a heartbeat’s despondence, and it gave all things life. “I enjoy it,” she explained upon sensing Fran’s disbelief, laughing at the expression she wore. “It is beautiful.”

That earned her a hard-won smile. “It is,” she agreed, and cast her own eyes skyward. “Despite all, I must confess that I too am excited to show you what lies beyond.”

“I am most excited to see it,” Mjrn declared, taking in the lonely, lofty heights of the shadestone as they drew closer. It would be bright soon, and bold; and perhaps so would Mjrn.


End file.
